Page 140 of Depravity

I need to get to her. I need to find her.

I shoot the newcomer, then deal with the half-dead oaf at my feet.

Another guard comes careening out at me. I take aim, blasting him back, blasting his buddy right after him.

It feels like an onslaught now, an actual battle. I can feel my heart starting to pound in my chest.

It’s been years since I’ve had a real fight, a real contest. That’s the downside about being a Blake, being a Reaper. The odds are almost always on your side, it makes these games more than a little boring.

But not today. No, today, any moment one of these fuckers could beat me. I could be the one lying here, bleeding out.

And then what? What would happen to my dear wife then? I don’t want to think about that, I don’t want to contemplate it.

I need to focus on the now, on the killing first, then the finding after.

By the time I make it to the next set of stairs, there’s half a dozen men dead and dying behind me.

I can hear the sound of gunfire growing steadily louder and it tells me that either Antonio doesn’t give a fuck about Lucas anymore, or he has him secured, and now he’s on a rampage too.

Boots appear on the top step. I shoot first, then shoot the pair that follow after. Stupid fucks, did no one teach them basic fucking countermeasures? Who walks right down a stairwell when their buddy just got their toes shot off?

The third man clearly learns the lesson the first two ignored and he takes off running, yelling, like a little boy lost and wanting his mother.

I make short work of his mates. They had one moment, one chance to kill me and instead they lay there, blubbering like babies.

I take aim but nothing comes out the barrel and I realise then, I’m out of damned rounds.

The guns they have are shit compared to mine, they’re all show and have no substance. But then beggars can’t be choosers.

I yank the assault rifle from one of the dead man’s necks. Who the fuck actually hangs the straps around them? What is this, a Call of Duty game?

The running man is quick. He’s almost at the end of the hallway when I take out his right knee. He slams down, face first into the plush rug and then he starts begging, pleading.

I stalk towards him, feeling like death himself and he turns, holding his hands together as if in prayer.

“Please, mister, please…”

God, he sounds like a child. Have his balls even dropped?

I narrow my eyes, seeing the hint of stubble on his chin and the obvious acne. I doubt the kid is more than nineteen.

“Where is she?” I ask that same fucking question.

“Please, I didn’t, I don’t.”

“Where the fuck is my wife?” I holler, pointing the barrel right at his throat.

“Mer, mer, mercy…” He sobs, crawling closer.

“I’ll give you mercy,” I reply. “If you tell me where Brynn is.”

“The, ba, basement.” He stammers.

The basement? Right where Antonio and his fucking men are headed.

I take a step back, losing what little control I have left and I slam my boot into his pitiful face. He howls, landing on his side.

“Please, mercy. You said you’d give me mercy.”

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